Brock Loves Kevin
by gracelove
Summary: Based on the episode "Flowers For Van". And no, Brock does not find a male lover. Sorry, this is another Reba/Brock, but it'll be pretty amusing, I promise!
1. Talk about dramatic irony

Set about the episode "Flowers for Van". So lets just say this: Brock and Barbara Jean are still separated, he's still at his condo. And he and Reba are flirtatiously playing poker…ya you know.

Chapter One

"Hey, Redrose! Take it easy! You're scooping up my money like an ex wife!" Brock chuckled, saying the words aloud as he typed them.

Van looked up at the screen, then at Brock. "Are you crazy – did you say Redrose?"

"Yeah, so what?" Brock asked nonchalantly.

"That's Mrs. H! As in Reba, as in your ex wife! I may not be the sharpest crayon on the table but that was not smart, Mr. H!" Van babbled, mixing his idioms along the way.

Reba? She plays poker, she's this good, I just started flirting with her? Brock stared stupidly at the screen, then a smile broke out over his face...

If he played his cards right (NO PUN INTENDED, I SWEAR), he could have some fun here.

LATER

Reba took a deep breath and muttered as she typed, "Since we won't be doing this anymore should we tell each other our real names?

Three houses down, Brock considered this. Smirking, he typed, "Why not?" he couldn't wait to see how she responded to this. "I live in Houston and my name is Brock."

Reba felt her jaw drop. _Brock? _No…no, no, no, this was very bad! She'd been flirting with her ex all day, and…

She felt her heart in her throat when she remembered the way they'd talked to each other. A certain couple of text bubbles came to mind, causing her to take a long swig of wine.

_Goldengod: …last time I played poke face to face with anyone, I lost and had to take her on a date._

_RamblingRedrose: How was it?  
Goldengod: Not bad. I barely knew her, though – we didn't talk as much as __**we**__ have._

_RamblingRedrose: Yeah, you're pretty easy to talk to, you know. Say, if I win this hand here, you have to take me out, okay? But I guess it kinda depends on our locations ;) _

_Goldengod: Guess so, but I wouldn't mind._

_RamblingRedrose: C'mon, you know I was kidding._

_Goldengod: Yeah, but still you seem like someone I could easily enjoy a date with…interested?  
RamblingRedrose: If you can find me, Antonio! ___

Reba went red just thinking about it! She knew what she had to do.

"I also live in Houston, and my name is Kevin."

Brock slammed his laptop shut, but only because he noticed Redrose signing off. He was laughing very hard. But in the back of his mind, he felt a tug of shame. He shouldn't have led her on…what if it had hurt her even more?

No. He'd lost that power to hurt her romantically long ago. She was probably just freaking out…

But in a way, he still did want to talk to her. She'd been so easy to talk to…he'd forgotten what it felt like talk to someone you actually trusted. You didn't even really have to talk about something important, not with Reba. For awhile, he'd forgotten he was talking to this hardened, brokenhearted woman; he thought he was talking to his wife.

As he climbed into bed again, he couldn't stop thinking of her. That always happened, especially lately. Before the separation with Barbara Jean, he had kept her off his mind by drinking, or spending ample amount of time with Henry and Barbara Jean, the golf career. Kyra moving in had, in a way, made things even tenser because she was a constant reminder of her mother, and hence made him so aware of how much he still treasured…Reba.

Enough, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of thoughts. She isn't your wife, she's your best friend. No more – you're not going to hurt Barbara Jean the same way you hurt her.

Tonight he tried to focus on how things were between him and Barbara Jean. He didn't understand why she didn't like the daisy's he'd given her (the same ones Van had given Cheyenne). She'd called him after she'd received them and yelled something about "REBAS GARBAGE!"

So she must have known they were re-gifted. If only she wasn't such good friends with Reba she wouldn't have found out…he was a little jealous that she was around Reba so much, actually…

Gosh, she really was in his head.

Back at Rebas, she was still hyperventilating. BROCK!! She had been flirting and connecting with her ex all day. How could that happen…she swore they had nothing in common anymore, but they had talked just like they were made for each other.

"Van!" Reba called, hurrying into the living room. She knew what she had to do. "I've quit poker."

"What?" Van, who had just let go of Cheyenne, who was holding roses, was very surprised. "You've been hooked, how can you quit addictions in one day?"

Reba puffed her cheeks and huffed, pulling at her sweater to air herself from the panic attack. "I got scared out of it."

"Freaky player online?" Cheyenne asked, nodding understandingly.

She nodded. "Yeah…yeah, he's a player. I need a bubble bath." She hurried up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Cheyenne and Van exchanged a shrug. "Someone needs a drink."

"You know what, I think your right!" Reba pounded back down the stairs in two seconds flat, and when she was running back it was with the rest of the bottle of wine.

Brock was reading the newspaper in bed when he thought he heard something rustle. Deciding it was just the fan on his newspaper, he let it go…for a minute. Then he heard a different noise…footsteps. He checked his clock; it was almost midnight. Someone was downstairs, at midnight, snooping around...but who?

He felt his heart pumping faster as the footsteps started up the stairs. His mind raised to an Agatha Christie book-based movie, _Sleeping Murder_, how the murderer had floated up the steps, arms out, ready to strangle the woman whose mother had been his first victim….

He heard the doorknob jiggle a little, then, slowly, start to turn….

"AHH!" he screamed, jumping under the covers to hide his face. To his surprise, he heard a scream, from whoever had entered his room.

"Who…whose there?" his muffled voice was barely understandable underneath the covers.

"Brock, it's me," he could almost hear the eye roll. He let out a sigh; it was just Barbara Jean.

"Barbara Jean," he sighed, coming out from the covers. "Scared me."

Barbara Jean was standing in a pair of navy blue sweats, her hair in a ponytail. She was breathing rather heavily, and her face was pink and slightly sweaty.

"Did you go for a run here?" Brock asked, disbelieving, putting the details together.

"Yeah. Got pretty bored." Barbara Jean shrugged. She glanced around nervously, tugging at her hair, feeling like a teenager again.

"Bored? Barbara Jean, no one in their right mind goes for a run this late – you could have gotten jumped, or mugged, or-"

"I'm not _in _my right mind, Brock." Barbara Jean rolled her eyes, as if this was obvious.

"Oh, yeah." Brock sighed. He wasn't very tired anymore. "So…" He wasn't sure what this was about. Why had she needed to speak with him right this second. "How's-"

"Brock, I need to say something…can I sit down?" Barbara Jean interuppted in a rush. Brock was taken aback.

"Sure…go ahead." Barbara Jean sat on the edge of the bed, biting her lip.

"Brock…I'm done. I just don't think we can work, and I want out of it."

There was a long, loud silence that filled in for the time in which Brock tried to comprehend what she was saying. Finally, he slowly asked, "So…basically…you want a divorce?"

Barbara Jean nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do." After an awkward pause while Brocks mouth fell open and he broke their eye contact, she sighed. "C'mon, Brock, enough is enough, you know we couldn't work, and I'm sick of trying to fix something nonexistent."

Finally, Brock nodded. "I agree, Barbara Jean. I mean, it looks like we've tried as hard as we can. The hardest part's just gonna be…breaking the news to everyone else."

Barbara Jean, blushed. "Uh…yeah, well I'm gonna go now." On her way out, she added, "Oh, and don't worry. They all expected it."

"What?" Brock yelled, but she was already out the door. He fumed for a moment. How could she just go and…

Oh, well, he decided, turning out the light. Some things aren't worth overreacting about.


	2. Flowers for Reba

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"Reba! Rebarebarebareba……..Van and Cheyenne!" So went Barbara Jeans entrance.

Van and Cheyenne, who had been discussing feelings (much to Vans discomfort) on the couch, looked up at the blonde airhead who had burst in on their conversation, head to toe in running gear.

"Barbara Jean, are you seriously going for a run?" Cheyenne shook her head in disbelief.

"Yeah. Is Reba here?" she panted.

"She's drunk in the bathtub," Van answered promptly. Nodding quickly, Barbara Jean hurried up the stairs two at time.

"REBA!" Barbara Jean threw the door open. Reba, who was soaking underneath layers of opaque white bubbles, screamed at the top of her lungs, stifling it quickly so as not to wake Elizabeth (Jake was at his Dads).

"Barbara Jean, what in the world? I'm in the bath!" Reba hissed. "And shut the door," she added, sinking deeper beneath the waters so her knees poked through the surface.

"Oh, Reba, I have made up my mind," Barbara Jean said excitedly, slamming the door and sitting on the toilet, crossing her legs and leaning toward her friend.

"You think you have a mind? Take a swig," Reba ordered, jerking her head towards the bottle of wine. As Barbara Jean obeyed, she asked, "Made up your… 'mind' about what?"

"Tomorrow, first thing, I'm divorcing Brock."

Reba stared at her, flabbergasted, for two full seconds, then held out her hand. "My turn."

After taking a long drink, she shivered from the buzz and handed it back. "Okay, say that again?"

Barbara Jean repeated her sentence. She shook her head. "Barbara Jean, I thought things were going great – you're going to counseling- "

"Yeah, but that doesn't help, all of our therapists are hot!" she whined. Reba rolled her eyes.

"Be serious, Barbara Jean."

"I am, Reba…do you know how long I've had those papers?"

"What papers?" Reba asked blankly. Barbara Jean sighed exasperatedly. "Oh, oh!! _Those_ papers…yeah, those ones, got it. No, I don't know, how long?"

"Since I found out that he was taking those stupid pills. I knew right then, I just knew it, that I wasn't enough for him."

Reba sighed, saddened by what she had said. She knew how that felt. "Barbara Jean…"

But Barbara Jean cut her off. "I mean it, Reba, and nothing is changing my mind."

"Look, Barbara Jean, divorce is…really hard. You have to think this through – all the nights you're gonna spend alone, all the memories that aren't gonna go away, it's not gonna just end, Barbara Jean."

"It can't be as bad as this, Reba, this…_separation_." She spoke the word like she was describing her latest encounter with a spider. "I don't know what I'm waiting for…I just know that things won't get better. So it's over."

Reba knew that at this point, there was no turning back. They were really going to divorce. "How'd Brock take it?" she asked after a pause.

"He doesn't know yet."

"What – Barbara Jean, you told me before you tell him? That's just…wrong!" Reba couldn't believe anyone could not keep a secret this big as long as possible. When it was her, she didn't exactly go around yelling "I'M GETTING A DIVORCE!! YESIREEFRED, THAT'S ME, I'M A DIVORCEE TO BE, LOOKEE!!"

Barbara Jean frowned, confused. "But…I knew he was divorcing you before you knew, so…?"

"That's not the point," Reba rolled her eyes. "You can't just-"

"Oh, get over it, Reba! Kyra and Henry already know, they didn't complain!" Barbara Jean pointed out.

"What – you told them first?" her jaw actually dropped. "Barbara Jean, if you're sure about this –"

"I am!"

"Than go tell Brock, before anyone else!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Barbara Jean stood and walked to the door. "Later, Reebs. Thanks for the wine."

After the door shut, Reba just shook her head, staring after her. "Yup. Wine. Lot's of it."

"Barbara Jean, where are you going?" Cheyenne asked as Barbara Jean hurried down the stairs and to the door.

"To ask your Dad for a divorce." She slammed the door behind her.

Van and Cheyenne stared after her, sort of like how Reba had done. "Did she just….did I just hear…is she really…?"

"Do you think Mom knows anything about this?" Cheyenne asked sharply. "They were just in the bathroom together, maybe Barbara Jean told her."

"Or, maybe they both realized that neither one of them needs a man. Hey, I'm just saying!" Van added, rubbing the spot where Cheyenne hit him.

"Hey, there she is!" Cheyenne pointed to the hallway upstairs, where she could see Reba wrapped up in a towel, hair in a clip, exiting the bathroom. She stood and called, "Mom!"

"What, Cheyenne?" Reba turned abruptly, oblivious to Van grinning at her current clothing.

"Is it true about Dad and Barbara Jean, is she really leaving him?"

Reba didn't answer right away. She'd just noticed the silly grin on her son-in-laws face. Blushing a little she made sure she was completely covered before saying, "Yeah, that's what she told me."

"Does she really mean it?" Cheyenne, who didn't notice Van, pressed.

"I think so. VAN WILL YOU STOP THAT!" Reba yelled. Van didn't hear her. It wasn't until Cheyenne finally took notice of the situation and slapped him hard on the back of the head that he showed any sign of life.

"Ow!" he complained as Reba stomped to her room, muttering something about "That perverted little…"

The next day, Brock drove to Rebas house with Jake. While pretending to listen to Jake's story about school, he wondered how she would react to him after the poker game. He had to stifle a laugh when he thought of the other surprise he had in store for her.

"Hey, Reba, Cheyenne," he said, smiling as he opened the front door. He paid specific attention to the former; at the sight of him, she blushed and murmured a soft, "Hey, Brock."

"Hey, Reba, you okay?" Brock asked, the tiniest hint of laughter in his voice. She heard it and looked into his eyes suspiciously.

"Yeah, why…Brock?" she clicked in the back of her throat saying the 'k' in his name.

"Oh, you just look a little…flushed."

"Hey, Mr. H, do you think you could take me fishing? I need to learn how so Cheyenne will let me do it for the rest of my life!" Van called from the couch. Cheyenne sighed impatiently, flipping another page of her _Vanity Fair_ magazine.

"I wanna fish, Dad!" Jake agreed.

Before Brock could answer, the doorbell rang. His heart jumped and he had to sit down before saying, "We'll see, Van, you should probably find a job, all the same."

Reba actually gave him an appreciative smile on her way to the door. He held his breath as it opened, but when he heard, "Barbara Jean, what is that?" he sighed in disappointment, then turned to face his soon-to-be-ex wife.

She was holding a huge cardboard box which was apparently heavy. She staggered over the threshold, and looked so helpless that Reba actually took it away from her and rested it one hip. To her, it wasn't very heavy.

"Its my collection of calories. I'm thinking tonight…we pig out!" she beamed at Reba who tilted her head to one side and pondered this. Everyone rolled their eyes and turned away.

"Sure, why not?"

Several things happened at once. Van, who had just taken a drink of his soda, spit it out…through his nose. Cheyenne dropped her magazine, Brocks eyes bugged and Jake yelled, "Whoa!" but he may have been looking at the pop and bogeys that were now on the coffee table. Then, to top these off, a man came to the open door with flowers.

"Flowers for Reba Hart," he said to the astonished room.

"What?" Reba tore her gaze away from the family and moved it to the man holding a bouquet of red roses. Everyone's astonishment doubled, except for Brocks, who worked as hard as he could not to say anything and to keep a straight face.

"Thanks," Reba accepted the flowers with a smile and the man left. She shut the door and frowned a little at the bouquet, setting the box on the table next to the door. "Who could these be from?"

"Yeah, seriously, I mean who would send you flowers?" Van laughed a little, looking around to see if anyone would join in. No one did.

"Go on, Reba!" Barbara Jean urged her. "Open the card!"

She got a rush of adrenaline pulling the card from the plastic holder stuck in the wrapping of the bouquet. Brock pursed his lips sharply, praying that the laughter building up inside him wouldn't crack a rib, or explode.

_Is it Jack? Is he back in town? Oh, please don't let it be Parker…_Reba thought wildly. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared her for what the note said.

Enjoy the REDROSES, Kevin. I look forward to our date – good thing our locations are so convenient! – Brock

"Reba? What's it say…?" Barbara Jean asked, jumping up and down a little and trying to see over her shoulder. Reba pressed the card to her chest so that she couldn't read it.

"Mom whose it from?" Cheyenne asked curiously. She couldn't answer; what was she supposed to say? It looked like Brock had her cornered. She didn't even want to look at him, she just stared down at the roses, having a sudden urge to rip them to shreds.

All she could do for now was claim her precious right to silence. Stepping off the landing, she tucked the card down her shirt and slowly made her way to where Brock was sitting. She could tell, just by looking at him, that he was dying to burst into hysterics.

Reba smacked him across the face as hard as she could with the roses, hoping that a thorn poked through the plastic and scraped his eyeball.

"Ow, geez!" Brock yelped, holding his face in his hands.

"Whoa!" Jake repeated, staring at this sudden outburst.

"Mom, what was that? Mom – MOM!?" Cheyenne called after her as she stalked into the kitchen, fist tightly clenched around the stems of her roses.

She and Barbara Jean exchanged a confused stare, then both hurried into the kitchen to find out what was wrong.


	3. Your place or mine?

Chapter Three

"Mom, what was that about?" Cheyenne demanded as she and Barbara Jean entered the kitchen behind her Mom. Reba was throwing the roses in the trash, cursing under her breath. "Okay…so you didn't like the roses, why'd you have to throw them in the trash, I would have taken them!"

"Who sent them, Reba?" Barbara Jean asked, checking the trash for the card, looking up to see Reba pulling a knife from the kitchen drawer. "Uh…Reba..?" she asked uncertainly, backing away.

"Mom – put. The knife. DOWN!" Cheyenne commanded, grabbing her mothers arm as she attempted to pass them. Reba turned her face toward Cheyenne menacingly, but Cheyenne stood strong (just for the record, her legs were shaking like crazy) and she finally took a deep breath and let go of it, letting it drop to the counter.

"All right, fine. I won't kill him – but it would serve him right!" she hissed. "How dare he send me flowers..."

"Brock sent you flowers? What'd you catch him at?" Barbara Jean leaned forward excitedly.

"No, he was making fun of me! Oh, he doesn't know what I could tell you all right now!" she growled from the back of her throat. If she hadn't been flirting right back, she would absolutly blab everything he'd said to her.

"Okay, why would Dad send you flowers, it really…it just doesn't add up!" Cheyenne insisted.

Reba sighed. What could she say? On one hand, she could give them a warped and twisted story and go against her better nature, and on the other hand she could save getting caught in a fib and tell the truth.

Before she did anything, though, she'd need to find out how Brock knew it was her all along. No wonder he'd flirted…he just wanted to humiliate her. Jerk!

"Look, I'll fill you in later, but first I need to talk to Brock, the lying, twisted…" Reba trailed off as Kyra entered the kitchen from the living room.

"Mom, Van says you viciously attacked Dad with flowers and left swearing to finish the job. Is that true?" she asked, taking an orange from the counter.

"Not the finishing the job part – I said nothing about that!" Reba contradicted.

"Yeah, but it gets better - Dad _sent_ her those flowers!" Cheyenne gossiped.

"Oh, tut-tut! Shame on him!" Kyra rolled her eyes.

"Apparently he deserves to die," Barbara Jean pointed to the knife on the counter.

"Well_, honestly_, sending _flowers_, how could he _do_ such a thing?" Kyra over-dramatized so well that everyone but Reba had to work hard to stifle chuckles.

"Oh, shut up," Reba snapped and headed for the door. "I'm going shopping – can I get you guys anything while I'm out?" she added.

"Nothing for us, but I bet Brock would appreciate some roses in return..!" Barbara Jean teased. While everyone enjoyed another laugh, Reba glared and slammed the door.

When Reba returned, it was to find Brock sitting at her kitchen table, drinking coffee and eating toast. Her heart beat madly; whether it was out of anger or her heart was just in a tell-tale mood, it annoyed her and she wished it would "hush".

"Hey, Reba, how goes it?" Brock asked casually. Reba ignored him and set the groceries on the counter and started putting them away.

"Reba, I know you can hear me," he sighed, amused by her childishness. "Can't we just talk?"

No answer. He sighed again and continued reading the paper. In the back of his mind he heard the soft footsteps making their way over to him, but that wasn't a place he visited often. So when warm liquid was poured down the back of his shirt, it took him by complete surprise.

He yelled as it flowed freely on his back. Fortunately, it wasn't very hot, but he still felt its heat radiating over him, soaking his T-shirt.

"Sure, Brock," he heard Reba say behind him over a ringing in his ears. "Let's TALK! I'll start: What you did was dirty, low, immature, and….anyway, you deserved that!" He turned to face her, still in shock. His expression must have been funny because Rebas glare broke into an elated smile and she let out her signature laugh.

"You should see your face!" she cackled.

"Oh, really?" Brock felt a grin coming on as well, despite his condition. "Well I'm sure everyone can describe the look on your face earlier today, you know…"

"Why did you go and do that, Brock?" Reba changed the subject abruptly. "And how did you know it was me?"

He admitted what Van had told him. "I would have said who I was but…"

"But what, Brock? You thought I wouldn't go easy on you? Well next time I certainly won't!" Reba snapped. _Oh, gosh, did I just say there would be a next time that we play poker..?_

"Reba, listen…can you sit down?" he asked awkwardly. She sighed but obeyed.

"Look…I know what I did was jerky. But it just seems like the only good times we have together are when we're reliving old times, or you're caught off guard and are happy to see me. When we were playing poker and just chatting…well it felt like we were those two people who we used to be."

Reba had to smile a little. In truth she wanted to cry. That was very…easy to relate to. When she was talking to him, the only reason she had flirted was because it was like talking to that special someone again, who you wanted and loved and expected to spend a lifetime with.

He could read that on her face, but after she was quietly staring into his eyes for a full five seconds he asked, "Do I lose a few naughty points?"

Reba chuckled as he brought her out to reality. "I guess…it does. You had a good reason, then. But," she added quickly, stopping him mid-smile. "You were still lyin'!"

"Technically, I never said it wasn't me…"

"Brock, you know what I mean. You know every kind of lie there is – no wonder you're so good at it!" she snapped.

He sighed. "I really am sorry, Reba. Honestly…if I'd thought it would hurt you this much I would have never-"

"I'm not hurt," she contradicted coldly.

"Really? Because for someone whose not hurt you sure are angry."

"Exactly; I don't get hurt, I get angry." She smiled smartly.

"No." Brock chuckled. "That's not true. You are one and fake the other – you get hurt, but act angry."

Her eyes narrowed. "Uh-huh?" she muttered. "And how would you know that?"

"Because, Reba, I was married to you. Remember?"

"Unfortunately," she affirmed.

Brock rolled his eyes. He knew it would be hours before this bad mood wore off for her, and he'd rather let it wear off by itself while she took in what he had said. So he stood and said, "I'll talk to you later, Reba." When she didn't respond, he just smiled. His foot was out the door when he added, "Oh, and let me know if Saturday works for our date."

"What?" she exploded out of her reverie, spinning in her seat to face him angrily, only to fall to the floor from the twist.

Luckily, when she raised her head, the door was closing and Brock was gone. Insult to injury had been avoided – phew.

"Mrs. H?"

Well, almost. Reba, wincing in pain, slowly stood and faced her son-in-law. "Please, don't ask, Van."

Van shrugged. "Okay, I won't ask if you're all right."

"I'm fine," Reba sighed.

"Who wants to know?" Van headed to the fridge and pulled out another soda. "So, that was one dirty trick Mr. H played, huh?"

"He told you?" she gaped. Van shook his head.

"No. I knew that he was flirting with you online – I was the one that told him it was you."

"And for that I will hurt you!" Reba promised viciously.

"Mrs. H, I thought he would quit talkin' right there, okay? Anyway, so he only told me about the flowers, and personally I think that flirting online was worse."

Reba blushed. "I wouldn't call it, flirting, Van…"

"Oh, please, I'm a grown man, Mrs. H!" Van rolled his eyes. "You and Mr. H never stop flirting, of course you would online!"

She glared at him. "Did you need somethin'?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes. See, now that Barbara Jean and Mr. H are divorcing, I wanted to know if you're gonna admit how much you like Barbara Jean and let her be your new roommate."

Rebas expression didn't change – it didn't have to. She was already looking at him like he was the craziest person on earth. Then she shut her eyes, shook her head rapidly, opened them and asked, "The hell was _that_?"

"Well, Barbara Jean is actually the person that wants to know." He shrugged. "Just thought I'd pass on the message."

Reba let out a chuckle and said, "Okay, Van – her move in? Absolutely NO; I do not like Barbara Jean. She's crazy, creepy and adulterous. She's also pretty much already living here so I don't know why she wants more."

"Because you're her bestest friend in the whole wide world!" Van mimicked Barbara Jean in one breath. Reba laughed at the uncanny impersonation. "Yeah, that's what I told Cheyenne. But, for some reason, she thinks it's a good idea, too."

"What?" Reba laughed again. "Why would she?"

"I have no idea," Van agreed, biting into an apple. "Hey – you know, it may have something to do with Mr. H getting the house when they divorce."

That stopped the laughing. Rebas eyebrows shot up and her jaw sunk to the floor. "What? Brock would get the house – why in the world-?"

"Oh, you heard?" Cheyenne had entered the backdoor in time to hear this, and now sat next to her husband, setting down her purse. "I'm only home for a second – I've got to go to the store after I eat," she added. "I'm running low on vitamin water."

"Oh, here." Reba passed her the bottle of vitamin water. "Now, what's this about Brock getting the house?" She continued to put the groceries away. Distractions, distractions – she could have been done ten minutes ago!

"Well," Cheyenne began, twisting off the cap. "Apparently Barbara Jean feels that its her duty to let Brock have the house since she asked for the divorce. And she doesn't want Kyra to have to move and change schools because of this." She sipped her water.

"I hadn't thought of that." Reba wished her daughter would just move back home, but she knew why it would be easier for her to be with her dad.

"Anyway, when I was talking with Barbara Jean, I mentioned that maybe she and Henry could live here -"

"Why do you hate me?" Reba groaned.

"Mom, this is really hard on her, her marriage has failed – I think it's really important for her to be around loved ones until she's moved on," Cheyenne explained sympathetically.

"Yeah, we don't want her to end up like you," Van pointed out.

Cheyenne hit her husband. Reba turned to face him, holding a large sack of potatoes in a tightly clenched fist. "What'd you say?"

"Well, I don't mean it's a bad thing, but since you haven't moved on or anything I'm just saying we can't let the same thing happen with Barbara Jean!" he babbled.

"Mom _has_ moved on – she had loved ones around!" Cheyenne said through clenched fists. "How could she not?"

"Well either I'm just an idiot or you're wrong," Van concluded, rubbing his arm where she hit him.

"Let's do what we usually do and say you're an idiot," Reba said satirically.

"Why are all the women in this family so mean!" he whined.

"It's not a bad thing, Van!" Reba mimicked him. "It's…well it's just a fact of life; I'm always right and you're always an idiot. See?"

"Ha, ha!" he snorted.

Cheyenne closed her eyes, counted to five, and opened them. "Are you done? Now, back to the point. I really think that it would be a good idea for Barbara Jean to live here. She's not as strong as you, Mom.. Plus, I think it'd be good for Henry to be around Elizabeth right now. This will be really confusing for him, being so young and all. Anyway, since Barbara Jean's unemployed and all, this will take tons of pressure off of her as far as money is concerned."

Reba winced a little. Her daughter had raised some good points. "Look, I just don't know. Gosh, I don't even like Barbara Jean!"

"Why not? It's not like she still has your husband anymore!"

"You need to shut up!" Reba threatened, pointing her finger menacingly at Van. "And what does that have to do with me not liking her?"

"Mom, you _loved_ Barbara Jean before the whole separation thingy, can't you just go back to that?"

"If not, then…maybe I was right?" Van failed to hide a grin.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" Reba yelled.

Cheyenne winked at Van; they were so good at manipulating Reba! "Well, I guess if you've not moved on, Mom -"

"Okay, fine! I'll think about it, okay?" Reba huffed and headed out to the living room, muttering, "I 'haven't moved on', oh bologna and cheese…!"

Her two torturers slapped a high five in victory, grinning at their handiwork. Sure, manipulating may be a little difficult, but it sure was fun.


	4. Because I'm Nice, sadly

Chapter Four

At eight o'clock that evening, Reba had made her decision regarding Barbara Jean. She wasn't exactly looking foreword to breaking the news; it would be hard. Could she really swallow her pride for the sake of doing what was right for her ex-husbands second ex-wife? It just didn't seem fair, but that was just another thing she would have to rise above.

"Yoo-hoo!" was heard from downstairs. Reba, who had been practicing her the hardest sentence she would ever have to say in the mirror, groaned. "Reba?"

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Coming!" she yelled back. Casting herself a sympathetic look in the mirror, she got up and headed out the door and down the stairs, uncharacteristically slumping her shoulders. When she past a toy in the hall, she kicked it down the open laundry shoot out of frustration. Yep, she was uncharacteristically moody.

Barbara Jean was sitting on the couch, wearing a fuzzy pink bathrobe and flannel plaid pajamas. Her blonde hair was flopped into two ponytails, one on each shoulder. The box of junk food was sitting opened next to her in the middle of the couch, and when she heard footsteps, she looked behind her and beamed. "Oh, cute robe, Reba!"

"Thanks," Reba replied nervously. She was starting to have second thoughts and moved a little closer to the couch, tapping the back of it. "Look, maybe we should do this another – are those Doritos?" Distracted, she maneuvered quickly around the couch and sat down, plunging her hand into the box for the family size bag of chips.

Barbara Jean beamed and opened the box of powdered doughnuts. "Dig in! You know, I'm already having fun. Why didn't we do this before?"

"Can't imagine why," Reba rolled her eyes, stuffing chips in her mouth. After swallowing them, she said, "You know, this is gonna make me thirsty, think I'll get a soda. You want one?"

"Way ahead of ya," Barbara Jean grinned and picked up a cooler at her feet, then slid her feet underneath her legs as she opened it. "Coke, Sprite, Dr. Pepper or Pepsi?"

"Dr. Pepper!" she grabbed a Sprite for herself and handed Reba her preference. "I needed this, Red. Divorce is _not fun_."

"What _is_ the world coming to?" Reba laughed a little. "C'mon, Barbara Jean, you didn't expect it to be easy, did you?"

"No, I guess not. I mean, look how you turned out: Heartless, heartbroken, no man…" she shook her head sadly.

Reba scowled and cracked open her pop. "Shut up, that's not cool." She'd just remembered why she was having trouble coming down to join Barbara Jean on the couch to engorge herself. The only question was, why was she doing it in the first place?

_Because I'm nice. Unfortunately. And this woman needs my help. Can't she just have a problem and I could happily watch, just this once?_

Taking a deep breath, Reba swallowed her pride: She'd made up her mind, this was the right thing to do. "Look, Barbara Jean…" she set down her pop can.

"Yeah, Reba?" Barbara Jean asked, wiping powdered sugar off her pants.

"Well, I know how hard divorce can be, and that it's good to have lots of people around, so..." Reba was about to say it then lost her pluck again. Letting out her breath, she glowered at the floor. Finally she looked up again and said, "Would you like to move in?"

She knew what Reba meant, but despite the seriousness, Barbara Jean had to mess with her. Looking down, pretending to be uncomfortable, she shrugged and set down her Sprite. "Wow, um, I don't know Reba, I mean…we just started seeing each other, don't you think this is a little fast?"

"Barbara Jean!" Reba yelled, moody face in place again, but the other woman was already laughing.

"I'm just messing with you – you know, that's what friends do!" she giggled. "Oh, Reba, that's so kind, I would love to! As long as you're sure it wouldn't be any trouble..?"

Reba shrugged. "Nothing I'm not used to."

Barbara Jean clapped her hands excitedly. "I just can't wait to paint my room..!"

Looking down into her pop can in dismay, Reba muttered, "I'm gonna need somethin' stronger than this later." She looked back up at Barbara Jean. "So do you know when the divorce will be final?"

She shrugged. "No. But ours won't be so long; I like to get things done fast and so does my lawyer. Oh, Reba, this is so nice of you!"

Reba actually had to smile; she was beginning to be glad to help. "It's perfectly fine, Barbara Jean. But I do think you should move in as soon as possible, just to make things move quicker."

At that moment Kyra walked in from the kitchen, followed by Cheyenne who was begging: "Please?"

"No, Cheyenne!"

"Please, Kyra, I will never ask for anything ever again, just do it, please?"

Kyra turned, smiling. "Okay."

"Really?" Cheyenne sighed in relief.

"No!"

Cheyenne groaned, disappointed. A distracted Barbara Jean and Reba exchanged a puzzled shrug, then Reba asked, "Cheyenne, what's wrong?"

"Kyra won't write a love song for me and Van!" Cheyenne complained. "It's our anniversary coming up! You know, as her sister, I think I deserve a song on her album!"

"I don't think you'd like the lyrics anyway, Cheyenne," Kyra said bluntly.

"Yeah, all her songs are mean," Barbara Jean pointed out. " 'Get Lost, Van'… 'Shut Up, Babby-Jay.."

But Cheyenne had a sly look on her face, and this expression was turned toward her mother now. All thought about songs, Kyra, and Van was suddenly out of her mind. "Mom…so I heard you talked to Dad today…I believe you have a promise to keep?"

It took a moment for Reba to remember the events of earlier that day; she'd done so much considering and reconsidering about Barbara Jean moving in or not, thoughts of Brock had been elsewhere. Now it all came back, bringing a heat to her cheeks and her signature frustration cry: "Craap..!!"

And just like that everyone was sitting down, eagerly awaiting the story.

Trying not to blush or stutter or show any other signs of embarrassment, Reba explained how the two of them had been playing poker online, and not knowing who their partner was, started to flirt. She didn't have the guts to look anyone in the face, but by the time she was done with what she thought had been a 'story cut to the chase', she looked up to see everyone gazing at her like a Christmas puppy. She almost checked to make sure she wasn't drooling with a huge bow around her neck.

Only Kyra didn't seem touched, just entertained; she joked, "So, first you sleep with Van, now Dad_ again_? Mom you total slut."

"Shut up, Kyra!" everyone said, but they too were in shock at how things were turning out.

"So, our divorce hadn't even been brought up yet, and Brock was flirting with you?" Barbara Jean cried. "What kind of man needs two 'other women'?"

"Oh, Barbara Jean..!" Reba moaned sympathetically; she hadn't thought of that. After finding no words of comfort to offer, she held up a Hershey's bar and said cheerily, "Chocolate?" Barbara Jean snatched it from her and ripped off the wrapper eagerly, seeming genuinely satisfied.

"So, are you going on this date, then?"

"You called me a slut, you can't ask questions," Reba said, hoping she'd dodged the bullet.

"Are you going on the date?" Cheyenne repeated Kyra's question.

Reba couldn't answer. She and Brock…on a date? It sounded…wonderful. She couldn't deny her feelings for Brock…okay, she could, but not to herself, anyway. But she was way too aware of how it could make the family feel.

"I just don't know, it wouldn't be right – they're not even divorced yet!" she reminded them.

"Didn't stop me and Brock." Barbara Jean shrugged.

"Whoa – a minute ago you were broken because we flirted before the divorce, what's this?"

"Well, I didn't have chocolate then!" she said as if this were an obvious answer.

"Yeah, Mom, I think you should go," Cheyenne encouraged sincerely, smiling a pretty smile.

Looking her daughter in the eye, a confused Reba said, "You do remember that before the separation you said that Brock and I getting back together would be 'horrible'?"

Cheyenne rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Mom, I only said those things because I didn't want him to break Barbara Jeans heart, but it turns out I had nothing to worry about, so duh – you should totally get back together!" she explained.

"Whoa- whoa –whoa, wait a second, we're talking_ one_ date, not getting back together!" Reba said defensively, with a hint of desperation.

"So you'll go?" Cheyenne beamed.

Reba sighed, defeated and fell back against the couch. "Yeah, fine, I'll go. But!" She added, momentarily pausing the excitement at her words. "Only if it's okay with Barbara Jean?"

Barbara Jean was looking a little hesitant. She was about to take another bite of chocolate to speed up the process of her decision when Reba took it from her, saying, "I won't take you seriously when you're under the influence."

She chuckled and shrugged. "Yeah, go ahead. Believe it or not, you two getting back together would make me feel a lot better about this whole…thing."

"It doesn't mean we're getting back together!" Reba yelled, throwing the chocolate bar at her. "Sheesh, one date! One measly date and you all act like he bought me a diamond ring and trip to Paris! This won't lead to anything, Brock and I are just friends. _If _that!"

"And then the papa bear said to the mama bear 'Whose been sleeping in my bed?'" Kyra quoted. (A/N: Anyone know which movie that's from?)

"Shut up, I haven't forgiven you yet," Reba told her menacingly.

**Hope you liked the chapter! Sorry if I don't update anything for awhile, I will be a busy girl come tomorrow. And when I say 'busy', I mean 'busier than my normal hullabaloo'. **


	5. Loser in Aluminum Foil

Chapter Five

Reba ended up changing her mind about the date. Now before you get angry and give me a hate review, realize that she didn't actually cancel. She just…negotiated.

So she picked up the phone the next morning and dialed Brocks number. He answered a little sleepily. "Hello?"

"Hey, Brock, it's me."

She could hear the smile on his face and rolled her eyes, but felt a grin making its way across her mouth. "Oh, good morning, how was the bingeing with Barbara Jean?"

"Not bad – it kinda creeps me out that she knows my favorite soda, chip and cookie but hey, it's all good. So, I was actually calling to talk about our 'date'."

"Oh, good, then does Saturday work?" he asked hopefully.

"Maybe." She shrugged, forgetting he couldn't see her. She heard his breathing break a little bit in surprise and stifled a giggle.

Unfortunately he noticed it. "Don't laugh, Reba. So you can't make it?"

"It depends. See, I really don't think it's fair, this whole date thing. What if I was seeing someone?"

"Then shame on you for flirting with a total stranger during a poker game," he mock-scolded, but it ticked her off.

"Excuse me, but you were married when you flirted with a total stranger during a poker game, so don't even start-"

"Reba, I was kidding. So, you were saying?"

She blushed, now glad that he couldn't see her. "Oh, right. So, if I had been seeing someone this would be a very inconvenient circumstance."

"Yeah. So what?"

"Brock, I will go out with you on Saturday night – if I don't get a different date by then."

"What? Oh, I see; you're going to call up Jack Morgan." Jealousy was sizzling in every word, and Reba couldn't tell if she liked it or not, but she couldn't help but glow a little.

"He's out of town, Brock; he will be for months,. But, for reasons best known to myself, I may get another date. If I don't, you can have me on Saturday night for whatever."

After a one second pause, Reba felt herself go a brighter shade of red. Realizing how wrong this sounded, she stuttered, "Th-that didn't come out right, I meant-"

Brock, who was laughing as quietly as he could manage, said, "I know what you mean, Reba, but with all due respect, you're adorable when you blush."

Sigh. Of course he would know when she was blushing, it was Brock she was talking to, after all.

"So, does that seem fair?"

"No; but I'm not going to argue with you. So, if you get a date for Saturday, I guess we'll call the whole thing off…"

"Thanks, Bro-"

"For now."

"That's not fair!" she complained, but realized that he was right and she just sounded stupid. "For now," he agreed.

"Buh-bye, honey." He was chuckling again.

Reba didn't understand what was suddenly making her feel so bubbly inside. Then she realized, and faked a scowl.

"Don't call me honey!" she yelled, then realized he'd hung up. Slamming it down, she paused for a minute, then broke into a very girlish giggle, spinning in a circle, and very gracefully tripping, about to fall when-

"Mrs. H, you have got to get better balance – that's like twice in two days!" Van scolded, catching her by the arms and standing her upright.

Reba regained her footing and tried not to let him see her still smiling, despite the shock. To her surprise, he looked closely at her face and giggled as well. "You have the most adorable blush, did you know that?"

"Van, you said that my blush was the most adorable!" Cheyenne complained, walking in behind him. She checked the clock. "Mamma, you gotta go, it's quarter till nine!"

"Oh, shoot, thanks!" she hurried past them to the door, grabbing her purse and leaving.

Once at work, Reba settled into her desk (this is supposed to be shortly after she got a job as a realtor; I'm not sure if that's legit, but lets pretend, cil tu plait). To her surprise, she found a jelly doughnut resting cool and comfortable on a napkin by her computer.

She looked up at a passing coworker she'd first met there and asked, "Janey, did you get this for me?"

Janey turned her pretty brunette head over and winked. "Didn't see the face, hun, but he looked mighty fine from the back! Maybe a little older, but that was one great bod – hey, your cheeks have a pretty glow to them, do you use Clinique?" she added to a glowing Reba.

She thoroughly enjoyed her doughnut and the day wasn't half bad. The regime was starting to make sense, and she was finding it easier and easier to pace herself schedule-wise.

At the end of the day, she still had a spring in her step. She had an admirer, and apparently a hot one, and maybe a date for Saturday night!

She had considered that it may be Brock; he would fit the buff man Janey had described. But she ruled him out after remembering that he had work, too, and hence no time to go out and buy her breakfast.

"Hello!" she called cheerily to Van and Cheyenne, who were sitting at the island, waiting for someone to make them dinner. She was humming 'Love Will Find it's Way to You' and carrying a few bags of Chinese food.

Exchanging a surprised look with her husband, Cheyenne asked, "Having a good day, Ma?"

"Yep, sure am!" Reba agreed. "And its too good of a day to cook. So, chow - the pork fried rice is mine."

"What is wrong with you?" Van breathed, staring at the Chinese in awe.

Reba shrugged innocently. "Nothings wrong, just wanted to do something fun."

"What did you do now?" Cheyenne sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh, Mrs. H, I should have known!" Van joined his wife, and sternly glared at his mother-in-law like she was thirteen. "Did you buy the wrong bubble bath for Elizabeth again?"

Reba rolled her eyes. "No!"

"Does she have a black eye?"

"No!"

"Oh, Mom, how could you!" Cheyenne, who now looked like she was onto something, exclaimed indignantly, placing her hands on her hips.

"Cheyenne, Elizabeth has two perfectly blue eyes, stop worrying-"

"You canceled out on Dad, didn't you?"

Van gasped, and pointed accusingly at her. "You…you…bailer-outer!!"

"I did not cancel – did he call it canceling?" Reba fumed.

"So you did!" Cheyenne stomped her foot furiously. "Mom, how could you – he was so excited!"

"Look, will you let me explain?" Reba snapped. "I negotiated. If I don't get a date by Saturday, I'll go out with him. If I do, well I'll go with whoever the guy is."

Van and Cheyenne, appalled, exchanged a furious glance then the latter spun on the spot, throwing her hands in the air, walking away. "I can_not_ believe you, Mother."

Van was following when he suddenly hurried back and grabbed one of the bags of food, snapping, "Shame on you!"

They weren't the only ones mad at her decision. Later Reba called up Barbara Jean before she went to bed.

"Hello, Reba." Her tone was icy. She pretended not to notice and said:

"Hey, Barbara Jean, how you doin?"

"Hmm, lets see. It's Wednesday, so I'm praying like crazy that you'll suddenly be ugly for the next two days!"

At first Reba had no idea what this was about, then she sighed in exasperation. "Barbara Jean, I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to do some moving this weekend-"

"I can't answer that without saying something I'll regret, I'm mad at you! No, I don't wanna hear it – you did wrong, you're making a huge mistake, and I hoped you were better than that! UGH! I'll call you later," she added breathlessly, then hung up. Reba listened to the dial tone for a couple more seconds before pressing end and falling on her pillow, and then asleep soon after.

That night she dreamt that Terry asked her out for Saturday right in front of her family, so she had no choice but to act like she would do anything to get out of the date and accept. Then Brock followed her with a twenty year old version of Dolly Parton.

When she woke up, she found herself angry at Brock just because of that dream; it would be so typical of him to do that, even just to tick her off. So she got ready, went downstairs in a very huffy mood.

"Morning, Cheyenne," she said dully, walking into kitchen. Besides a "Humph!" her daughter made no reply.

"You're not talking to me? Good, I'm not in the mood for talking," she shot back. After grabbing a bottle of water, she left in a worse mood.

The mood stayed bitter and cross until she got to her desk and found her favorite Starbucks drink and one of their blueberry muffins next to her computer.

"Janey, did you see who it was?" she asked. Janey looked up from the next desk and shook her head.

"Nope. Got here and there it was. Whoever he is, see if he has a friend!" she added.

As if it couldn't get better than two free breakfasts, when Reba went to her mailbox at noon she found a sticky note stuck to a velvet box. The note said _To Reba :_ _Hope you find it to your liking._

Her hands shook a little bit as she opened the Tiffany's box, and she completely lost her breath. Sitting inside was a wide Tiffany Somerset Bangle. She'd seen one before and knew the cost; who in their right mind would buy her this without wanting her to know who they were? In a way she was sincerely flattered and felt obligated to keep it, but at the same time, how could she accept without knowing them?

Reba took one more look at the bracelet and felt her heart melt a little more. _She had an admirer! _It was thrilling, but almost scary. She couldn't just leave it there, she had to keep it with her. So she shut the box, slipped it into her purse and headed to the café for lunch.

While eating, Janey came over and sat with her. "Do you mind?" she asked. Reba shook her head and smiled best she could with food in her mouth. "Thanks, it has been quite a morning!"

Reba swallowed. "Tell me about it."

"Rough clients? I had rough clients. Seriously, first they want a house in a 150,000-250,000 range. Now he just got promoted so after I find the EXACT house they describe, they want it in a 250,000-300,00 range! I mean what kind of snobs care if the house is too inexpensive?"

"Speaking of expensive…" Reba looked over both shoulders and leaned in. "If I tell you something, you cannot tell anyone, okay?"

Janey leaned in, curious. "Okay, shoot."

Reba set her purse on her lap and pulled out the box, then, ever so slightly, turned it towards Janey, opening it just enough to see what it was. Janey's eyes bulged and her mouth fell open.

"Where did you get that?" she breathed.

"My mailbox," Reba said, shrugging.

Janey scoffed. "No fair! I've been working here three years, no one ever put jewelry in my mailbox!"

"Shh!" Reba silenced her nervously, slamming the box and stuffing it back in her purse. "I don't want anyone else to know!"

"Why not – someone's got it bad for ya, girl, show it off! I think you should wear it, loud and proud!" she advised.

"Janey I don't even know the guy…oh, I do hope it's a guy," she added, the thought crossing her mind.

"Who cares?" Janey sighed, exasperated. "Okay, let's put all this together…first, jelly doughnut. Then breakfast from Starbucks…" she raised a finger, as if to say _Aha!_ "Some man done you wrong! Does any guy have a reason to apologize to you?"

"Cha!" Reba answered, then her face fell into a frown. "Oh, no…"

"What, do you think you know who it is?"

"Yes, I do!" she already had her phone out; Brock was NOT going to bribe her into a date. She had just dialed his number when she shut the phone and put it back. It couldn't be him.

"What, you were onto something!" Janey protested.

"It couldn't be Brock, he's cheap," she sighed, a little sadly.

"Who's Brock?"

Reba was about to answer when she realized what time it was. "We better go – fill ya in later, okay?"

She didn't get another chance to talk, however; the rest of the day was a little hectic. She got a taste of Janey's medicine with some clients who refused to be satisfied, someone knocked over her Rolodex, and her computer started scanning, which took a long time and made it slower than a tortoise.

When she got home, everyone was still a little moody at her. She just ignored them and went about her business, making dinner for herself.

"Mmm, Mrs. H, that smells good!" Van complimented, coming into the kitchen.

"Thanks. You can make some for yourself later," she said, pouring the chicken from the pan onto a plate.

"WHAT?" he exclaimed, his thick eyebrows merging together and almost flying off his face.

"Well, no one's talking to me, why should I make them dinner?"

"I'm talking to you! See, I just did!"

Reba just shook her head and sat down to eat. Van fumed for a minute, then, staring at her food, made his way over the freezer and pulled out the raw chicken. He scrunched up his nose in disgust, but dumped it onto a plate and stuck it into the microwave.

"Ha, ha, didn't touch it!" he praised himself. Reba ignored him; she was reading the paper, and was hence surprised when Van sat down next to her with a plate of delicious looking chicken while she was standing to clear her plate.

"Did you make that?" she exclaimed, disbelieving.

"Oh, yeah, it was pretty fun, actually!" he grinned, starting to cut it up and wolf it down.

"How did you know how?"

"Mrs. H, I learned from hungrily watching the best," he said, humble as he could through a mouth full of food. She lost admiration at the sight and left him to eat.

As she lay in bed later that night, Reba couldn't sleep. She hadn't heard from Brock all day…was he mad? Or, was it really him sending these tokens of affection?

Unable to stand it, she reached over and pulled the box out of her purse and turned on her lamp. Opening the box, it still took her breath away how gorgeous a gift it was. Why would someone like her enough to buy this, but not enough to tell her what they were up to? Obviously he was rich, whoever it was, so he scored major points there. But was he really this insensitive? He had to come out and tell her who he was – and hopefully he would by tomorrow so she could get a date.

But she wanted to go with Brock!! Ugh, her family was right. This was a stupid, childish thing for her to do, pretend to not want to go on a date with Brock. And what if this dude turned out to be someone like Terry, the jeweler?

She ended up not getting much sleep and was very grouchy again in the morning. However, her family was rather nice to her.

"Good morning, Mom!" Cheyenne sang as Reba entered.

"How ya doin, Mrs. H?"

Reba raised her eyebrows suspiciously. "What are you so cheerful about?"

"Victory!" Cheyenne cheered, raising a hand in the air. Kyra taunted, "Trying out for drill team again, Cheyenne?"

"Actually, I was trying out for 'shut up, Kyra'!" she snapped.

"What's the victory for?" Reba asked.

"Well, it's Friday, and you have no date!" Cheyenne slapped the smile back on her face triumphantly. "So, you have no reason not to go out with Dad."

"Ha, ha, ha, don't be so sure," her mother smiled evilly. "You don't know that."

"Well, do you have a date?" Van asked.

"Well, no-"

"Then we know it!" Van slapped Cheyenne a high-five. Reba rolled her eyes, bad mood not shifting.

"I can't talk to you people," Reba muttered, scowling, and headed for work.

To neither her or Janey's surprise, there was a croissant and coffee sitting on her desk. Janey, however, found it much more exciting at present.

"Reba, look! On your desk!"

"I know, I know," Reba sighed, setting her purse down and staring at the breakfast. "I'm sorry, but this guy's kinda getting on my nerves."

"What? He bought you three breakfasts and a Tiffany's bracelet and he's getting on your nerves?" Janey exclaimed as if she was nuts.

"Well, I'm sorry, but it'd be nice if he showed his face!" she sighed and sat down. "Maybe you're right – it silly for me to be complaining after all his attention…"

Just then the boss started to come their way (FYI – I made him WAY different from the one on the show!). He was a rather attractive man with brownish hair and was rather tall. Unfortunately, Reba didn't notice until he was behind her.

Janey desperately tried to make Reba see, but Reba was rambling: "I've just had a horrible couple of days!! Everyone at my house is mad at me because they want me to go on a date with my ex husband, and-"

"Mrs. Hart, I'm sure this is a very fascinating story, but there is work to be done," came the voice behind her. She jumped, turned and blushed. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Parker…"

"May I see you in my office, Mrs. Hart?" he asked sternly, gesturing across the room. He started that way, and Reba had no choice but to follow, after casting Janey a disgruntled look.

Janey, concerned, didn't take her eyes off the blinds pulled down in his office, through which she could vaguely see the outline of a man and woman. To her surprise, it seemed that Mr. Parker pulled Reba close to him, then the latter slapped him away.

"Atta girl!" Janey muttered.

He tried again, but again Reba pushed him. From inside she heard the sound something being knocked over.

"….you monkey's BUTT!" she could hear Reba yelling. Everyone in the vicinity looked around for the source. "If I get one more anonymous gift or if you so much as poke my back I will come in here and break your arms to make sure you can't!"

The door was thrown open and Reba stepped out. Her face was not the pretty, subtle blush it had been lately, but beet red in anger. She didn't notice the entire office staring at her in wonder as she stormed to her desk and cursed to herself.

"Well, that settles it," she said finally said to Janey after everyone's attention was elsewhere. Janey, who hadn't moved her gaze from the angry red head, asked, "What?"

"I'm going on a date with my ex husband."


	6. Kindling the Fire

Chapter Six

"Wow."

Reba raised her eyebrows anxiously. "What does that mean, 'wow'?"

Neither Cheyenne or Barbara Jean answered, just gazed at her in envious awe. It made her very uncomfortable, and she begged, "Can't I just turn and look in the mirror now?"

"I think so," Cheyenne said, biting her lip excitedly. Impatient, Reba turned and now her breath was knocked out of her. Her hair was in soft spirals around her head. And her dress made her look…WOW. She had forgotten she still had those curves, and now this rather comfortable black matte jersey showed them off perfectly. The sides scrunched up ever so slightly. The only problem she had was with the rather low neckline…okay, a very low neckline.

"Cheyenne…I don't think so."

"What, why?" Cheyenne and Barbara Jean gasped, disbelieving. "Is something not working?"

"Working…" she gestured to her cleavage. "No. It's working too well."

The two blondes burst into laughter, just as the doorbell rang. Through giggles, Barbara Cheyenne said, "Too late, hun!" and pushed her out the door, handing her a silver clutch. Reba almost tripped over her own feet, barely comprehending how nervous she felt about this date as she was being pushed down the stairs.

She was about to open the door when Cheyenne pushed her back towards the stairs, stopping her just before she fell backwards onto them. "Stay right here," Cheyenne ordered, pressing down on her mothers shoulders like she was going to seal her into cement. The doorbell rang again, and she was about to open it when she glared at Barbara Jean, saying, "The wife cannot be here when the husband is going on a date with his ex-wife, shoo!"

"Oh, right!" Barbara Jean giggled and hurried into the kitchen and ducked beneath the counter to eavesdrop. Taking a deep breath, Cheyenne put on a dazzling smile and opened the door. "Hey, Daddy!"

Brock stepped inside and Cheyenne shut the door behind him. He didn't even hear it close; his eyes were fixed on Reba. She looked...breathtaking. There was that blush as she modestly lowered her eyes - what he felt must have shown on his face, and she could recognize it.

She didn't think he looked half bad himself, in fact he looked great. That shirt really brought out the brown around his iris'. Plus he was gazing at her like she was Aphrodite, so that was even more sexy.

"So, wanna sit down and have a drink?" Cheyenne asked, rubbing her hands together with glee. Her parents broke eye contact to stare slightly scornfully at her. They were about to respond when they heard "Whoa!" come from across the room. Everyone turned to see Van with his jaw on the floor, staring at his mother-in-law with a face similar to Brocks.

"Okay, screw that, don't stay out too late!" Cheyenne said, jealousy at her husbands behavior changing her mind, and she positively threw the door open and pushed her parents out the door before they could make another sound. It slammed before Reba could say it didn't matter how late they stayed out; she was the Mom and she made the rules!

She realized Brock was laughing and turned to give him a confused stare. "What's so funny?"

"Van was checking you out!" he teased, taking her arm and leading her to the car. She had to slap him and protest:

"Oh, please, Brock!"

"Oh, please, Reba!" he mimicked. "Did you see his eyes - they were all gooey, he's probably getting the third degree from Cheyenne this minute."

"Kinda like yours?" she had to tease back. "You couldn't scrape your eyes off me with a spatula."

He was about to contradict her when he shrugged casually. "Yeah, can't argue there." He smiled at her slightly astonished gaze as he opened her door and helped her into her seat. "What, you look hot." He shut the door on her flattered, glowing face.

As they were driving, the awkwardness was left on the driveway as they started talking. By the time they were sitting at the fancy-schmancy restaurant and had ordered drinks, they were absolutely fine.

Reba asked him if that was a new shirt. It was actually a trick, and he smelled it. He decided to play with her a little, and shrugged thoughtlessly. "Hmmm, I can't actually remember when I got this."

She felt a lump rise to the back of her throat, but she acted like it didn't matter but pressed casually, "Well...I saw it at the store quite awhile ago…"

"Well, I love that dress on you."

"Thanks," Reba said, smiling and momentarily forgetting that he didn't remember that _she'd_ bought him that shirt.

"Is it new?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows, not sure why he would care.

"Yeah, got it with Cheyenne. She forced me into trying it on and…" she shrugged. "Turned out okay."

"You look fantastic," he complimented just to see the blush rise around her cheek bones again. A moment later the waitress popped over. Rebas glow faded as she took in the high skirt and low top,_ and_ blonde hair just to top it off.

"Hello, I'm BJ and I'll be your server this evening." She smiled genuinely at them, but the hair was standing up on Rebas arm and she didn't like this…chick. No blonde, busty chick named BJ was good news, especially when she was looking at Brock like that. "Are you ready to order?"

"Go ahead, Reba," Brock offered. He always let her order first, because it was gentleman-like and because usually he would just get the same. He never ordered for her, and this never usually bothered Reba. But she wished that he would this time when they had Barbara Jean's mini-me serving them. Hopefully Brock just wouldn't ask this _chick _what the special was.

After they both ordered, Brock had taken note of Rebas sudden stiffness. "Honey, somethin wrong?"

"Nope." Brock raised his eyebrows; she was leaning back in her seat, arms folded tightly, legs crossed (forgetting that her dress had a slit) and glaring at the salt shaker. He remembered that look and what it meant. Now he just needed to figure out why it had happened now and here.

Leaning foreword a little in his chair he murmured in a slight sing-song, "Rebas got her jealous look on…"

Reba scoffed and turned away slightly, just like Cheyenne would do. "Pshh, no…"

"Is that a 'no' or a…" he put on Barbara Jeans lying face. "Noooo!"

Now she actually laughed. He'd done a fairly good impression. "Nice, Brock," she giggled.

Hoping he was on a roll as far as getting her mind off whatever was bugging her, Brock asked, "So, is it true you asked Barbara Jean to move in?"

"Yes, I did," Reba admitted, unfolding her arms and leaning her elbows on the table. She expected a sigh of discomfort or frustration from him, but to her surprise, he asked, "Whose room is she going to get?"

"Oh, I talked to Kyra and she said it was all right if I let Barbara Jean have her old room. She knows it's only temporary, and anyway Barbara Jean's moving y'alls old bed into there, so she can still come over and spend the night anytime," Reba explained, trying not to aggrevate him into thinking she hadn't thought this through.

Brock stifled a chuckle at her assurance. "I wasn't concerned; you're not stupid, Reba. But again, lovely blush," he added. She seemed to have totally forgotten whatever it was that was bugging her, so he silently congratulated himself. They continued to talk lightly and Reba had almost forgotten why she was jealous when the waitress came back, her arms held high with their orders. She tried to catch Brock eye as she sat the platters down, saying, "Here you go."

"Thank you," Brock said politely, glancing at her then back at Reba, who was looking away from her, jealousy back in place. Now she was even added a tongue click and muttering under her breath. The waitress, curious as to what could be distracting this man from herself, glanced at Reba and immediately understood. She couldn't compete with that!

Noticing her pause, Brock looked up and saw the waitress looking at Reba, and Reba looking away, each with that same look on their face. Two and two clicked, and almost laughed out loud as the waitress put the smile back on her face and said, "Enjoy! Can I get you anything else?"

"Reba," Brock murmured after she'd left. Reba was still looking off to her left, scowling at a piece of carpet. "You won."

"Yeah, right," she snapped under her breath, disregarding the fact that he knew what was going on in her mind. He sighed, impatient.

"Why are you so jealous?" he asked. "Don't you think I've learned?"

She sighed. "I guess…but…" she shrugged, still unsatisfied. Her head jerked up as he started to laugh out loud. He was looking at her with a face only another man could not find flattering. It was that 'God, I love you!' face.

"What?" she asked, embarrassed.

"Reba, you are so ridiculous its great. I…" he was about to say he loved her (In a totally fun way but seeing as he really meant it he wasn't going to mess around) when he had to stop himself and cleared his throat, trying to wipe off the smile. "Let's dig in, shall we?" he added. She rolled her eyes.

The meal was delicious and very enjoyable. Reba kept forgetting that she was on a date with her ex and should be very uncomfortable; it was just like the online poker thing.

"So, what now?" she asked after they were back in the car.

"You'll see," Brock grinned. Reba gave him a suspicious glare but was pretty curious and kept her mouth shut. They drove for about another twenty minutes, talking about random things. Brock was delighted that he could still make her laugh without doing something stupid. He'd fallen in love with that laugh and smile a long time ago; to inspire it childishly tickled him.

"Where are we?" Reba asked when he pulled the car to a stop. It was so rather dark right now so she had no idea where he had taken her. But he was out of the car and had opened her door, taken her hand and pulled her out. Instantly, he covered her eyes and pulled her by the hands to follow him.

They walked for a while, and she could tell she was walking down a slope and could faintly hear the wind humming around her. The ground began to feel a little more soft and finally she heard Brock murmur, "Okay…open," and remove his hands. She obeyed and gasped in wonder.

He'd taken her to a dock, where a white boat was tied, patiently bobbing up and down in the water. The lake around it was bathed in beams of milky-white moonlight and even the stars seemed to admire a dazzling reflection, dotted around the glass-like surface. Reba took in the beauty of it with her jaw at her feet, and Brock admired how her hair rippled in the wind across her face. Her eyes stood out over the water; a lighter, brighter blue against midnight blue.

"Like to go for a ride?" he asked. She nodded, words failing her, and allowed him to lead her by the hand onto the dock, then followed him cautiously into the boat.


	7. I'd Rather Ride Around With You

Chapter Seven

"Anyway, Elizabeth, that was Mommy's wedding." Cheyenne entered the room just in time to hear this sentence from her sister. Her eyes bugged out and she yelled, "KYRA!"

Elizabeth's eyes lit up and she ran to her mother, pulling at her hands. "Mommy, did you really have a princess gown and crown? Did Daddy really carry you off to an island for your honeymoon and make you the queen of it?"

Cheyenne's anger melted and she smiled, touched, at Kyra. "Aw, Kyra…"

"I tried to keep it PG," she said, rolling her eyes as Elizabeth danced into the kitchen, singing, "I'm a princess – Mommy's a queen!"

"Anyway, do you know how Mom's date with Dad went last night?" she asked Cheyenne to distract her. With the prospect of being the first to pass on the gossip, Cheyenne's eyes lit up and she immediately sat down with her sister and said smugly:

"Okay, so this morning I went up first thing and woke her up. She was pretty much worn out so I had to bring her breakfest. One sip of my coffee and for some reason she spit it out – no comment!" she added angrily.

"I wasn't going to-"

"Ah-ah-ah!" Cheyenne held up one finger to silence her sister who rolled her eyes. Satisfied, she continued, "…And so that kinda woke her up enough. So after refusing my breakfest…" she gave another icy stare to make sure Kyra wouldn't interrupt with a smart comment. When she didn't, she returned to gossip without another pause. "She told me EVERYTHING. She and Dad went to this restaurant and they ate of course. Then he took her, like, far, far away to this river and they went in a boat and they were on it for like, an hour! Then, like I bet they made out or something!"

Kyra stared, confused and dissatisfied. "'You _bet_'?" she repeated.

"Yeah, Mom didn't go into much detail," she shrugged. "_That_ we'll have to make up for anyone else who asks."

"Great. Okay. What about this? We ask DAD!" Kyra yelled, slapping her sisters arm. Cheyenne winced in a pout.

"Hey! You hit me – Dad!" she repeated, the idea sinking in. They were both on their feet, about to run to the door but they had no time to even move when the door opened and in came Reba and Brock, Reba giggling as Brock, his arms around her waist, tickled her ear with his lips. Both of them froze when they noticed Kyra and Cheyenne across the room, eyebrows raised in an identical expression of shock.

Reba jerked away from Brock, using the hand that was up by her face to scratch where he'd kissed her. Brock rubbed his lips absentmindedly, clearly trying to erase traces of lip gloss.

"Busy, Ma?" Cheyenne asked through pursed lips.

"Yeah, Dad – feel like a chat?" Kyra even sounded like her sister now. Their parents exchanged a nervous, panicky glance, then he grabbed her hand and they were out of the open door.

"Whoa – what's going on?" Van asked. He'd just gotten out of his car and noticed his mother and father-in-law, hand in hand, running toward him.

"Van, quick – Rhonda!" He passed over the keys, confused, and watched them hop into his car and back out in a flash, then disappear down the street. Horrified, Van ran down the driveway and yelled, "DON'T BURN ALL HER RUBBER! PLEASE, MR. H, TAKE IT EASY!"

"Van!" Cheyenne whined from the porch. "You let them use your car?"

"Yeah, so what? Mr. H signed the pledge." He shrugged, joining them on the porch. " Hey!" he added as Cheyenne slapped him upside the head.

Driving off, Reba had just started to realize what they had done. She started to laugh. Brock, noticing, cracked up as well. "What?" he asked.

"Oh, I just feel like we're in college again, running away from the school in the middle of the night – don't you remember?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

"Yeah, of course I do. Weird, we were so young…"

"Hey, we are NOT old, _watch-it_." Reba glared and slapped his arm. Wincing, Brock said, "Okay, honey."

Reba giggled. "What now?" he asked, smiling at the smile on her face.

She sighed happily. "Ah, it feels good for you to call me honey again." She leaned over and kissed the side of his head. He smiled back at her.

"You want us to get in an accident, don't you?"

* * *

"So that's all she told you?" Barbara Jean whined. Cheyenne nodded. She, Barbara Jean and Kyra were sitting in on the couch. Barbara Jean had come over to move some clothes over, but Reba wasn't here so she' d just left them by the door.

"Thank God," Kyra breathed, her eyes widening in realization. Barbara Jean and Cheyenne cast her a questioning stare. She looked back at their surprised faces with frustrated relief (Does that makes sense?). "If she won't tell us, we probably don't _want_ to know!"

"Oh, come off it, Kyra – like you don't care!" Cheyenne scoffed.

"Cheyenne, there are certain things a daughter doesn't want to know about her parents romantic night?" she said it like a question, putting emphasis on the last two words. It took her sister only a moment to catch on, and when she did her face was remarkably like Kyra's. Again.

"Eww…" she breathed.

"Well, I'm not Rebas daughter, and I want to find out!" Barbara Jean said stubbornly.

"When you do, please keep it to yourself," Cheyenne requested in a flat voice.

Disappointed in their sudden lack of interest, Barbara Jean said, "Well, I wonder where they are now."

"I don't," Kyra said quickly.

"Maybe they went back on the beach…" Barbara Jean said dreamily. "Maybe they went far, far out in the water to a land of beauty and paradise…"

"Cheese, Chey?" Nodding vigorously, Cheyenne followed her sister into the kitchen, leaving Barbara Jean to pout on the sofa, still fantasizing Brock and Reba on a romantic date.

On the contrary, however, Brock and Reba were not anywhere special.

"This is all your fault," Reba grumbled, folding her arms. Brock scoffed and glared at her.

"Excuse me, I told you that if you kept that up we'd be in a jam!"

"I beg your pardon, Brock, didn't think you let your hormones operate the steering wheel!" she sneered back. He frowned.

"Your lips sure are misbehaving. First they won't stop kissing me and now they're making your face all grotesque," he insulted.

"Oh, that burned." Reba rolled her eyes.

"Burned? Sheesh, you've been hangin' around Kyra too much," Brock commented, shaking his head. They sat in silence, each blaming the other and coming up with fresh insults in their mind to use at the next possible moment.

So, why had they gone from behaving like newlyweds to behaving like the stubborn people they were? Well, Reba had started to kiss the back of his neck again, simultaneously drawing circles on his thigh, and Brock, tickled and in need of a cold shower, had stepped on the gas pedal. In the nick of time, he noticed a tire on the road and swerved to miss it, only to end up with their car in the ditch. They were a mile out of town, and too angry to get up and walk.

"Van's gonna kill us…" Brock muttered.

"Us?" Reba repeated.

"Hun, if I go, you go." That was it for that conversation. The next ten minutes were completely silent except for the sound of passing cars whooshing by and the wind that blew Rebas hair every so often. Then they were aware of a faint buzzing coming from nearby.

Recognizing it, Reba hit Brock very hard on the arm. "You had your cell phone!? All this time? You MO-RON!"

"Ouch, Reba, stop that! It's coming from _your_ purse!" he pointed out, pointing to the floorboard where, sure enough, her purse was vibrating.

"…Oh." Embarrassed, Reba quickly pulled her purse on her lap and flipped open her phone. "Hello?…Cheyenne…uh, can you come get us?…What?…NO WE ARE NOT AT A CHEAP MOTEL!!…We're on the side of the road…Ew, or course we're not, you know! Ugh, will you please get your mind OUT of the GUTTER?…Well, your father crashed Vans car into the ditch by the freeway…yeah, just about a mile out of town, think you can come out? We're gonna call a tow truck, too…Thanks, sweetie – and remember, don't tell Van, we will when its time."

She shut her phone and turned, opening her mouth to tell Brock the news when she saw him grinning from ear to ear. "What?" she asked. He was remembering how she'd blushed when Cheyenne had accused them of being at a motel, or doing that stuff on the side of the road. It had blown all of his anger down the road with the rest of the cars.

"I can't help it, you're just too damn cute!" he smiled, brushing his hand against her cheeks. She smiled back, realizing that she was still blushing and allowed him to kiss her lips. She felt Brocks hand on her thigh, tracing little circles and had to push away, giggling.

"Stop, that tickles!" she giggled, forgetting it was exactly what she'd done to him.

"Excuse me? Last I checked, that excuse doesn't work. If it did, we wouldn't be here right now," Brock challenged. Reba bit her lip; he had her backed against the car door, and his fingers were tracing lines and circles on her thigh. Despite the frustration, she was giggling.

"Brock, stop it!" she hissed, still grinning despite herself. "Cheyenne will be here any minute, they don't want to find us making out in Vans car!"

Brock sighed. "They won't be here for another ten minutes at least, c'mon…"

But Reba held her ground, refusing to be caught in the act like they had been by Cheyenne and Kyra before their breakaway in Rhonda. This tied another question to Rebas mind, one that had floated away a couple of times before she could actually talk to Brock about it.

"Hey, Brock…" she began. "I…are you sure that…do you think the_ kids_ can handle us dating again?" Where she'd said 'the kids', she'd been thinking of someone else.

"Oh." Brock thought about that for a minute. "Well, seeing how supportive they were about our date last night, yeah."

"What about Barbara Jean?" she sighed. There, she'd said it.

"What about her?"

"Brock, am I hurting her?" she burst. "I mean…I kinda feel like the 'other woman' now."

Brock shook his head at her concern. After all Barbara Jean had done to her, Reba still cared. "Reba, I can assure you – we have no feelings for each other."

Reba shrugged, uncomfortable. "Brock…"

From behind them they heard a horn and she sighed, pulling out her phone to call the tow truck now that Cheyenne was here. She just didn't know how to tell Brock that she was sure Barbara Jean still loved him.


	8. Awkwardney Reigns

Chatper Eight

"Thanks for driving us back, Cheyenne," Reba said as she and her daughter entered their house. They'd dropped Brock off at home since he was going to go mini-golfing with Henry.

"Its no problem." Cheyenne sat down on the couch next to Barbara Jean and Kyra and picked up a magazine. Reba, who expected more of a fuss, folded her arms and cleared her throat. It wasn't that she wanted a reinactment of the inquisition; it was just bound to happen, and she thought she should get it over with. Right now, the only person looking interested was Barbara Jean. She was grinning mischieviously at Reba, who wasn't comforted.

"Well?" Her daughters looked up.

"Well, what?" Kyra asked.

"Aren't y'all gonna interrogate me? After all, I just made a getaway in Vans car with Brock after we didn't home till one in the morning –"

"One in the morning?" Barbara Jeans interest suddenly increased. Reba sighed; she hadn't meant for that to slip. "We got plenty to talk about, sister!"

"Oh, just for the record, we _so_ don't want to know." Cheyenne spoke rather urgently, Kyra nodding behind her.

"Don't listen to them, Reba, c'mon! My room!" Barbara Jean grabbed her friend by the hand and pulled her upstairs.

Reba didn't think she could hold it in any longer as Barbara Jean sat her down and said, "Spill." Unfortunatly, this room didn't really comfort Reba, either. Beanie Babies were lurking in every corner and flat surface, the only other objects in the room, all with leering, beady little eyes.

Shaking off her discomfort, she got a grip: She'd kept reliving the night over and over, so it took just that for Reba to launch into a narrative. "All right, so we went to the restaurant, and-"

"Oh, skip that whole part," Barbara Jean said, waving her hand in the air, silver bangles jostling on her wrist. "I know it all."

"Huh?" Reba attempted to pull a Van and merge her eyebrows, but it didn't have quite the same effect.

"I followed you to the restaurant and was sitting to the left of you the whole time.," Barbara Jean confessed, without one hint of remorse. Then she shook her head and said sadly, "The second time I do that, and you still don't look. So just start on when I lost you on the highway."

Knowing it wouldn't do any good to reprimand her friend, Reba took a deep breath and continued, "Okay, so he took me to this boat on the river, and we went out a little ways and then he pulled out a deck of cards for us to play poker, just like we did online. (Barbara Jean awwed) And I kept winning, of course – he's really bad, we should do that more often," she added as an afterthought. "Anyway, then the boat rocked a little to hard and three cards slid down the table and went between the side of the boat and the table and…they're probably still there. So we just hung out on the boat."

"_And._.?" Barbara Jean wiggled her eyebrows for more details. Reba was blushing.

"_And,_ maybe we snuggled a little…maybe…"

"_And_ maybe you let him kiss you _and_ maybe you kissed back?"

Reba raised her eyebrows and looked away awkwardly. "Mmmaybe."

Barbara Jean squealed in excitement. "Could this get any better? My best friend…back together with her ex! Aren't you glad we live in such a weird family?"

Reba laughed, but knew that before anything else was said, she had to get this off her chest. She took a deep breath and admitted, "Barbara Jean, I didn't actually just want to talk about our date, I wanted to talk about something else, woman to woman."

Barbara Jean raised her eyebrows, taken aback. "Oh my gosh. You're going through menopause."

"No!" Reba buried her face in her hands, wishing Barbara Jean wouldn't turn serious conversations into embarrassing, awkward ones. "No, will you please refrain from saying that whenever I say 'woman to woman'?"

"Oh, um, okay. What?"

She took a deep breath, trying to get back on track; Barbara Jean had thrown off her groove. "You…still love Brock, don't you?"

"No."

"That was a quick 'no'. Are you sure?"

"…No." Barbara Jean bit her lip and looked at the bed. "I'm not...completely." Silence interrupted the conversation, until Reba had the courage to say:

"Barbara Jean, I want you to listen." The blonde looked into her blue eyes, hoping against hope that she hadn't ruined anything. She hadn't counted on Reba being so perceptive. "If me being with Brock would interfere at all with you moving in, or our friendship entirely, please know that I would wait as long as it took for you to be ready."

"Oh, Reba, it won't!" she objected, shaking her head frantically. "There is absolutely no way I could ever put Brock before our friendship! And if it was such a big deal, why would I divorce him? We just don't click, Reba."

"If you still love him-"

"I don't, Reba, I'm just not fully over him. But I will be."

Reba surveyed her eyes carefully. She couldn't be lying about it, it would be so obvious if she was. Still, the fact that she hadn't completely gotten over him scared her; she couldn't stand to lose Brock again, or lose Barbara Jeans friendship.

"So please, Reba, don't break if off with him." Suddenly her eyes sparkled again. "So what else happened last night?"

That night, Barbara Jean finished moving in with Reba. By the time everything was in place and Henry was asleep, she and Reba were plain worn out and decided to order a pizza…through Brock.

It was almost midnight, and everyone else was asleep. Anxiously, Barbara Jean and Reba waited in the kitchen in their sweats, impatient for pizza.

"Ugh, where is he?" Reba murmured, pacing back and forth next to the counter while Barbara Jean tapped her fingertips on the counter. "I'm going old and gray here…"

"We should sing a song!" Barbara Jean said suddenly. After receiving a dark glance from Reba, she shut up and went back to her finger taps.

Reba, very hungry and irritable, paused in her pacing to glare at the blonde's fingers. She made her way over to the counter and folded her arms, glowering.

"Will you stop that!" Barbara Jean jumped and placed her hands on her seat to sit on them. "Thank you." Reba went back to her pacing just as Brock walked in with two boxes of pizza.

"Hey, hey, hey!" he said loudly.

"Shh, Brock!" Reba hushed him, hurrying to pull the boxes away. Barbara Jean attempted to follow, but with her hands stuck beneath her, it wasn't an easy task. She knocked the stool over and almost hit her head on the table.

Worried, Reba and Brock helped her up, but she seemed okay. "Get your hands off me, lets eat!"

The three ate in silence, savoring a long day ending in…pizza. Best friends, who had been through Hell with each other, finally on the same side. Then…

"You really think you're gonna scare someone off with a lightsabor?" Cheyenne hissed.

"Van, can I use that?" Jake piped up.

"You guys don't think someone's really-" Kyra's sarcastic voice began, then she was interrupted by Van.

"Shh! Do you guys smell pizza?"

Brock, Reba and Barbara Jean, who had frozen at the sound of voices, suddenly frantically shoved the pizza box in the oven behind the counter and chewed as fast as they could, trying to swallow as the four made their way into the kitchen.

"Mom?" Cheyenne exclaimed.

"Dad?" Jake frowned.

"Barbara Jean?" Kyra raised her eyebrows.

"PIZZA!" Van yelled, and made a beeline for a box they'd forgotten about, which was still a full pizza.

Cheyenne, who had folded her arms in exasperation, hissed, "Van, we were just asleep, how can you be hungry?"

"I'm always hungry," he answered thickly. "Saywhar-oo-eyes-oing-up?"

The guilty party stared scornfully back at his chewing, attempting-to-be-reproachful face. "Huh?"

"Good question," Kyra agreed, joining Van and eating a pizza. "But frankly, I'm willing to forgive you if you just fork over some of this pizza." She helped herself, flicking off an olive. "No questions asked."

"Yes, because nothings changed," Cheyenne, who had taken a piece herself, assured them. "We _don't_ want to know."

"That's comforting." Reba glared at them, along with Brock and Barbara Jean, who didn't like how this was working out. "Jake use a napkin!" she added angrily, as Jake wiped his mouth with his new pajamas. "Now kids, why don't y'all take that up to your room?"

"We're not allowed to eat in-"

"Pretend you are, now up, up, up!"

"To heaven!" Cheyenne finished, attempting to sing. Suddenly, the force that was keeping Brock and Barbara Jean stone faced was lifted and they burst into laughter as Reba pointed the kids upstairs. They left, still munching cheerfully on their pizza. As soon as they were gone, Reba smacked Brock. "It's not funny!" she snapped.

"Oh, really?" Barbara Jean giggled. "Its not funny that we have a recording of you singing 'You Lift Me Up to Heaven' in the shower?"

Everyone paused, because Barbara Jeans sentence sounded very awkward, (If you don't get it, say this out loud : You lift me up to heaven in the shower. Awkward? Check.) "Okay…" Reba said as Brock choked on his pizza. "Clear your mind." She sat back down, taking a sip of her beer. "You know what the problem with you two divorcing and me and you getting back together?"

"Nope. What?"

"Y'all still tick me off and I can't get up and leave when that happens!" she snapped. Barbara Jean laughed, nodding.

"Yup. Now you two can annoy _me _and I can be all mean and fiery!" she said happily, then gasped. "Reba! You're my Barbara Jean!"

"Excuse me? I didn't have an affair with your husband, I do _not_ fit the profile!"

"Well, last time I checked you don't mind kissing!"

"Oh, for pity's sake, its not like I plan on sleeping with him and having a love child-"

Brock could only listen to them bicker for so long before his mind wandered. He was thinking back to when Henry was born, how that had made him finally love Barbara Jean, because she'd had his baby. In that moment, when he said he loved her, he meant it. Really. And when he'd said he didn't love Reba, only a few months later, it had been a lie. Leaving her house that day, he'd realized just how dumb his choice had been – not because Reba was so much better, but because he could never, ever love anyone like he loved her. Not even the mother of his child.

"Brock? Are you okay?"

Brocks eyes opened. He'd fallen asleep on the island, and there were tears forming in his eyes. He blinked, hoping they'd not see them.

"Aww, was Brocky having sad dweams?" Barbara Jan cooed, giggling.

"Here," Reba said, handing him a napkin. He accepted it, saying, "Thanks," and wiping his eyes. That's when Reba joined Barbara Jeans laughs. He raised his eyebrows; it wasn't _that_ funny.

"Brock, that napkins for your face – you fell asleep on the pizza. Beautiful blush, by the way," Reba added, winking.

**Okay I'm kinda thinking that's the end – I'll have an epilogue next. I had fun with this chapter, but it kinda stunk near the end. Wasn't sure how to end it! I'll update on 'Dirty Little Secret' next probably, so…yup! Hope you enjoyed!**


	9. Epilogue

Chapter Eight

1/2 YEAR LATER…

"How did this happen?" Cheyenne snapped to Brock and Reba, who were sitting uncomfortably on the couch. Van, who sat next to Brock, seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

"I don't know…how do these things ever happen?" he said. "I was just driving down the road in Rhonda, when all of a sudden that Porsche just spoke to me from across-"

"I was talking to _them_!" Cheyenne yelled, gesturing to her parents. Van, scared, stood up and stood next the room with his hands in his pockets.

Reba sighed, cornered. "I didn't know that birth control wasn't 100 percent foolproof…"

"Oh, please, even I knew that, Mom! What about you, Dad? I thought you got a vasectomy."

Brock cringed a little. "Um...Barbara Jean made me get it reversed about a week after she found out. I just didn't feel like I should announce it and pretty soon it was just out of my head." He knew that sounded lame, but it was true. He wouldn't remember something he really wanted to forget.

"WHAT? Dad, how do you forget that you got a **_vasectomy reversed _**– God, who forgets that easily?" She glared at Van as he opened his mouth, and then clamped it shut out of fear. "Never mind," she sighed. "You_ are_ a man."

"What does that mean, he's excused because he's a man and I'm still in trouble?" Reba snapped. "Gosh, that's_ so_ fair."

"Cheyenne," Van interrupted as Cheyenne opened her mouth to retort. "How can you be so hard on them? After we got pregnant at 17, shouldn't we cut them a little slack?"

"Oh, please, it's not as though they were exactly easy on us!" Cheyenne snapped, and they were all astonished to see tears welling up in her eyes. "They're always shoving in our faces that we'd screwed our lives up…!" She waved her hand frantically in front of her face, trying to dry tears before they fell. No one could understand what would bring out _this_ reaction.

Reba stood up, angry that Cheyenne was preying on everyone's sympathy. "Cheyenne, does it always have to be about you? So WHAT if I 'm pregnant?"

From the top of the stairs, they heard Jakes voice pipe: "I thought _Cheyenne_ was pregnant!"

This statement was followed by silence, then-

"I AM GONNA KILL YOU!" Cheyenne started for the stairs, but Reba caught her by the arm, yelling, "Wait, we're both pregnant?"

Brock and Van exchanged a look that clearly said, _how do we always manage to knock women up at the same time? Well, at least we're all married now._

By the time they had gotten over the shock, Brock and Van noticed that Cheyenne and Reba were laughing and crying at the same time, hugging and jumping up and down. Now they both shook their heads, thinking _Mood swings._

"Mom?" Kyra called, coming down the stairs, completely oblivious to the scene and staring down at a piece of paper. "Why did Jake just hand me his final will and testament and say Cheyenne was fixing to-?" But she stopped when she looked up and saw what was going on. Looking around, she shook her head, turned and went back up the stairs.

"Barbara Jean, we need to talk about you bringing too much wine into the house. I think Jake had some, too, and now everyone downstairs is all happy and huggy," she said when as she walked into their room. Curious, Barbara Jean followed her downstairs and blinked a couple of times. Now Cheyenne and Reba were sitting on the couch, giggling and saying words so fast and high pitched that only they could understand. Van and Brock each had a beer and were looking a little stunned.

Barbara Jean cast a questioning look at Kyra, who shrugged. Finally, Barbara Jean yelled over the noise, "Hey, what's going on?"

Reba and Cheyenne both turned to look at Barbara Jean, words failing them, and started pointing at each other, squealing. "Girls, I don't speak squeak…anymore. Guys?" She turned her questioning look to them, but to no success. They just shrugged helplessly, pointing to their wives and saying, "Ah…ask them."

Finally Cheyenne said, "I…I mean, Mom, I mean…pregnant!"

"Reba! You're pregnant?" Barbara Jean shrieked, excitment mixed with confusion bubbling over.

"_Cheyenne_ is!" Reba corrected.

"Sheesh, get it right, Cheyenne," Kyra snapped. "My heart almost bruised my rib cage!"

"But she _is_ pregnant!" Cheyenne whined.

"So are you!" Reba snapped, suddenly not so happy.

"Both of you?!" Kyra and Barbara Jean shrieked in unison, their heads turning to glare at Brock and Van, who just shrugged and were uncomfortable again. "Sheesh, I might claim to be pregnant just to fit in."

Hearing only the words 'I' and 'Pregnant' in the same sentence, Brock and Van jerked their head to Kyra and whimpered, jumping to their feet and staring at her in shock. To them, they were the worst words to be in the same sentence. Confused, Kyra said, "What? Like that's the most shocking and awkward things I've ever said."

* * *

9 MONTHS AND TWO LABORS LATER...

Reba slowly lay her new daughter gently down into the bassinet. Brock kept peering over, hoping against hope that she wasn't going to wake up. They both stood straight up, waiting for her to croon and cry, and tensed when she had a sharp intake of breath. When everyone started breathing again, they were still just standing there, watching their newborn breath in and out peacefully.

The light seeping through a crack in the door opened and Cheyenne and Van stepped carefully into their bedroom. "Hey," the former whispered. "We just got Anthony to sleep – how's my sister?"

"Kimberlee's fine," Brock answered sleepily. "Wow, can you believe there are two new babies in the house?"

"I'm just so excited to finally have a son!" Van grinned. "See, Cheyenne, I told you we should've had a boy – three days old and he's only woken up at night once!"

"Yeah, Van, I really should've listened." Cheyenne rolled her eyes.

"Hey." They all jumped as Barbara Jean made an entrance, not bothering to knock. By this time she had moved out and was living in her old house now that Brock was with Reba. "How's everything?"

"Its all good, Barbara Jean. Hey, thanks for brining Jake home," Reba added. "He fell asleep okay?"

Barbara Jean rolled her eyes. "He was out of it before we were out of the parking lot."

Everyone stood in silence, staring at baby Kim. She was just so tiny, so beautiful and sweet looking. Non of them could believe that eight months ago the very thought of her had scared them to death. Now she was practically the center of their universe, holding them together. In spite of the sweetness of the moment, they all had to stifle a giggle when they thought_ 'Wow, this kids gonna be told some crazy stories someday…'_

**That's all, folks!! Thanks for sticking with me and for the reviews. My newest story should be up soon...it's weird, having them all finished right now. Anyway, hope you like it and I decided that if anyones interested in writing a sequel to this, well just message or email me! Lots of love - Alexandra **


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